moonlighting

Should I apply for this job? It will have to be at the expense of my career, as prime-time TV conflicts with a teacher's sleeping schedule. Also, the deadline is tomorrow and so are a number of assignments I have yet to begin.

Media Life is looking for writers who can review new TV shows and also revisit exiting shows and offer solid yet lively critiques, writing to a sophisticated audience of people who plan and buy media for a living. A strong background in television would be helpful but is not required. Include a full resume. When applying, mention you saw this opening listed at
JournalismJobs.com.

To find out more about this job, go to:
http://www.journalismjobs.com/job_listing.cfm?JobID=647171

Position: TV writers
Company: Media Life Magazine
Location: Telecommute
Job Status: Freelance
Ad Expires: November 29, 2006
Job ID: 647171

thanksgiving rumination

(with a cornucopia of parentheses)

One of my new favorite reading-inspired activities is plunging parboiled vegetables into an ice-water bath. It started when I was making haricots verts from my Martha Stewart Living cookbook a few weeks ago to take to my parents' house for dinner, and I liked its green-preserving effect so much that I extended the practice to some steamed broccoli I made a few days later.

If you were a vegetable, and knew your fate was to serve as a plate divider between pools of gravy, butter-oozing potatoes, and maki sushi (this is my family, after all), wouldn't it ease the pain of searing heat, just a little, to be lovingly bathed in ice water midway to your final destination?

Ben is in the other room, watching Babe while he eats a "stomach-stretching" vat of broccoli salad before our big family dinner tonight.

update: He just trotted into the room to say, "That'll do, pig. That'll do."

just humor him, he's my betrothed

I meant to start this awhile ago, when Ben first suggested we get wooden wedding rings. It's a list of ridiculous ideas Ben has offered for our wedding/marriage/honeymoon in such a way that I suspect he's not joking.

Today's gem: "Let's go to Las Vegas for our honeymoon. I want to see a Don Rickles show!"

F this

This is one of those times when I get a glimpse of what I'll be like as a parent. [Notice I did not say, "what I would be like as a parent."] This crew of guys has been working for the past two weeks repairing our neighbors' collapsed rock wall. It's been a pretty interesting process to watch, as I've always wondered how they get an infinite variety of different-shaped rocks to fit into a level, symmetrical design. Still don't get it. But I think it involves chopping up big rocks into smaller ones, and you don't just stack rocks willy-nillly, you have to set up a string mold first.

Anyway. I was feeling solidarity with the rock wall workers, as I've adjusted my backing-out-of-the-driveway techniques and even my picking-up-the-mail schedule to accommodate their presence. I've started wearing more respectable clothes around the house in case they can see in, and I used them in an analogy in a Power Point presentation for one of my education classes. It wasn't a flattering analogy, but whatever.

Today, though, all love has been lost. The f-ing f-ers have become markedly louder and more brash, probably because the project is almost done and it's Friday, and they can't f-ing say more than three f-ing words without inserting the f-word in there some f-ing place, the motherf-ers! F! It's driving me f-ing crazy!

In case you can't tell, I don't really like to use profanity. And as I've paced around in the kitchen, becoming more and more incensed (could also be due to the three cups of coffee I've had with no food yet), my thoughts are all centered on The Children. "What about the (f-ing) children?!" I want to lambaste them. There are CHILDREN in this neighborhood, and I'd rather not have them exposed to this kind of language and animalistic behavior. Try to adopt a modicum of self-control!"

That's what I'd say, if I had a child of my own to tote along as punctuation. If I went out there now, speaking on behalf of the 6-year-old who lives across the street and taunts us when we drive by, I'd probably be cussed out by her mother.

dead right out of the gate

I was going to take part in this Blog or Die thing I read about on Molly's blog, where you have to write every day in the month of November. Not doing so well with that. I don't think "dead right out of the gate" is the right phrase, though. I am presently attending an online course in Adolescence and Education (like, I'm in class right now), so I have a few things competing for my attention. Like my guest list manager at The Knot.com. According to the budget tool (with my initial allotted budget), I can afford to spend $12.50 per person on food, and $0.63 on each favor! Not too shab-by.

So, yesterday was my one free day. I am going to Blog or Die as a sign of my newfound self-discipline.

Ben and I are going to Hilo (about 2 hours away) tomorrow to attend some event called "Black and White Night." When I first heard about it, I was all excited, expecting we'd get to dress up and drink free champagne with a big band playing in a ballroom. Where did I think we lived, Cleveland? Turns out we're staffing a table (I thought you got to stop doing that when you graduated from your mid-twenties), and his boss is going to wear a black t-shirt, probably with the company logo on it. And, we're staying at a budget motel in what is probably the Skid Row of the Big Island.

But, I get to go to my first-ever bridal shop! It actually carries a line of gowns that I saw and liked in a Brides magazine that a friend gave to me. I'm kind of sad that I have to go alone, but what can you do.